


5 Times Monster and Kit Cockblocked Jeff

by editingatwork



Series: Neighbors AU [4]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Blowjobs, M/M, Neighbors AU, body image issues, handjobs, light hockey angst, vague suicide mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-21
Updated: 2018-03-21
Packaged: 2019-04-05 14:59:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14046789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/editingatwork/pseuds/editingatwork
Summary: Jeff is ecstatic to have kissing rights to Kent Parson. He'd like to do more, if his and Kent's dumb cats would LET him.





	5 Times Monster and Kit Cockblocked Jeff

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings, case anyone needs it: one of the cats vomits something gross, and later there's vague references made to Jack's overdose. If you see something you think should be tagged or added to the warnings, let me know!

1.

Jeff is so used to Saturday pizza-and-beer nights with Kent being platonic that he genuinely _forgets_ that it could be interpreted as a date night. He invites Kent over as usual the next weekend and thinks nothing of it. Kent arrives with beer and a smile, warmer than usual. Jeff waves him in and closes the door. “I’m keeping the pizza warm in the oven. You wanna get the movie queued up while I get it?”

Kent’s smile deepens. “Sure,” he says, and goes into the living room.

But then, after Jeff has gotten the pizza out and is pulling a couple bottles of his own beer from the fridge, Kent joins him.

“Need something?” Jeff asks, closing the refrigerator door and putting the bottles on the counter.

Kent puts a hand on his side and replies, “Yeah,” and kisses him.

Jeff freezes.

Kent pulls back and studies his face. “Sorry. Was that—too much, too fast?”

Yes, but not the way Kent means. Jeff makes himself let go of the counter—he’d gripped it in surprise—and move his hands to Kent’s hips. Kent’s jeans are rough but the heft of his body under Jeff’s fingers is grounding. Jeff says, “It’s not too fast. I just—” He laughs at himself. “I forgot this is a thing, now. I’m used to thinking it’ll never happen.”

“Did you think I wasn’t into you?” Kent asks. His fingers are exploring the lines of Jeff’s ribs through his shirt. “Because, to be clear, I am really into you.”

Jeff huffs a laugh. “That was some of it. Mostly, I was afraid of fucking us up.” Impulsively, he squeezes Kent’s hips, and it’s so gratifying when Kent shuffles closer. “I wasn’t kidding about you being my best friend. I really, really can’t lose that.”

“Same.” Kent slides both hands up to Jeff’s shoulders. “So we’ll take it slow. We’ll get our pizza and beer, sit on your sofa, and watch a movie that we’ll end up talking through, anyway.” One of his hands drifts up to Jeff’s neck and just sits there, patient. “Or, you know, maybe not _talking._ We’ll see how it goes. Sound good?”

Jeff can’t _not_ smile. “That sounds awesome.” He goes in for another kiss, because why the hell not? Kent grins against him and hums in approval and moves that hand on Jeff’s neck up into his hair. The kiss deepens, becomes lush and wet, _indulgent_. Jeff feels positively giddy.

“Meow!” demands Monster from the floor.

“Mmf, not now,” Jeff manages, waving a vague hand in the direction where he thinks Monster might be.

“Meow!”

Kent chuckles. “Did you feed him?”

“Yes, I fed him, he’s being obnoxious.” Jeff tugs on Kent’s belt loops and nips his bottom lip. Kent takes the bait and opens his mouth, lets Jeff put his tongue inside, and _oh boy_. It feels like Jeff’s birthday.

“Meow!” Monster, suddenly much closer, headbutts Jeff’s arm.

Jeff mumbles an approximation of, “Get off the counter, asshole,” and puts his attention where it belongs, which is the little noise Kent just made in his throat. He wants to hear that again, and _again_.

Instead, he hears something he has learned to dread in this past week with a free-roaming cat: the sharp, loud _crash_ of something shattering on tiled floor.

Both Kent and Jeff jump in surprise and look around. Brown glass shards are scattered through puddles of fizzing beer, at least two bottles’ worth. Monster, meanwhile, sits on the counter, already nudging the last bottle to the edge.

“Don’t you fuckin’ _dare_!” Jeff yelps in panic, and swipes the beer away. Then he has to swipe Monster, too, before the idiot jumps off the counter and into the minefield he created for himself. Jeff does _not_ want to add bloody, glass-filled cat paws to the mix.

Both Kent and Jeff stand unmoving for several seconds while they stare at the mess.

Then Kent sighs, smiles wryly, and asks, “Where’re your paper towels?”

They spend the rest of their precious evening wiping down the entire kitchen for stray bits of glass. The only Netflix and chill action Jeff gets is the apologetic kiss Kent gives him before he leaves.

“The glamorous life of a cat owner, Jeff. Don’t sweat it. Next time will be better.”

 

2.

Jeff doesn’t believe in prophecies, fate, or karma, but he _does_ believe that Kent might have jinxed them with those words.

Jeff’s “next time” with Kent starts out fabulously just two days later. They’re horizontal on Kent’s couch, making out like they’ve got the whole day to do it. They don’t; there’s a pickup game in less than an hour. They’re supposed to head to the rink together.

The situation isn’t ideal; the couch isn’t long enough for both of them and it’s barely wide enough. Kent tastes like whatever veggie protein shake he had for dinner, which is to say, unappetizing. Meanwhile, Jeff is getting cold, even with Kent as a blanket, and his elbows keep getting swallowed by the couch cushions. But Kent is on him, kissing him, running his hands all over Jeff like he’s been aching for it, and Jeff doesn’t care about the veggie breath or the uncomfortable lumps poking his back, because having Kent on top of him is a whole new level of exciting. Jeff will gladly be late for hockey.

And then Kent suddenly yelps and does a full-body flail like he has been electrocuted. Jeff gets a knee in the balls and curls up in pain. He hears an indignant “Meow!” and then the sound of four paws hitting the floor and scampering away.

Kent rears back. “Jeff! Oh shit, did I—”

“Yep,” Jeff wheezes.

“Do you need ice?” Kent is up on his knees, hovering over Jeff and looking concerned.

Jeff tenderly cradles his testicles with his hands and shakes his head. “What _happened_?”

“Kit. She just jumped up and clawed my ass—”

Jeff wheezes again, laughing now, and Kent lightly smacks his hip before climbing off. “Do you want ice, or frozen peas?”

“It’s not that bad,” Jeff insists, but when he tries to move he winces visibly and instinctively curls up tighter.

“Peas,” Kent decides, and heads for the kitchen.

While Jeff lies on his side and waits, he notices Kit watching him from the doorway of the bedroom, her head poking around the corner. He likes Kent’s cat, normally, but not right now. “Not cool, Kit.”

Kit meows and ducks out of sight.

Even after twenty minutes of icing, Jeff is still wincing. They go to the rink anyway. Jeff sits on the sidelines with a pack of frozen peas on his crotch and flips off every guy who skates by and laughs at his throbbing balls.

 

3.

 **KENT** :  
i heard yelling, u ok??

 **ME:  
** yes

 **ME:  
** no

 **ME:**  
I am so sory but I gotta cancel tnight

 **KENT:**  
yeah no that’s fine, but ur being noisy af and making actual typos, what’s going on???

 **ME:  
** my gd cat brought a gd live mouse into my gd apartment

 **ME:**  
like he litrlly escaped out the door 5 min ago, caught it in the hallway, and brought it back in.

 **ME:**  
it’s behind my couch now.

 **ME:**  
I can HEAR you laughing, asshole.

 **KENT:**  
sorry, bro. :p

 **KENT:  
** u need help?

 **ME:  
** …yes please.

 **KENT:  
** b right down. <3

 

4.

Jeff has seen Kent’s bed a million times, but he’s never been _in_ it.

It looks like that’s going to change tonight.

“Fuck, you were on fire tonight,” Kent is saying as he walks Jeff backwards into his bedroom, punctuating his words with hard kisses. “The way you went around Bommer and then put it _through_ Rabs’ skates, set me up for that shot—”

Jeff can’t even chirp him for getting hot about hockey because he’s been doing the exact same thing for almost half a year. On the other hand, he’s never been obvious about what it does to him to watch Kent handle a stick, whereas he’s pretty sure every guy in the league knew _exactly_ why Kent was pointedly urging Jeff home instead of going to the bar. If there’s chirping about that later, Jeff feels within his rights to join everyone in dragging Kent’s ass about being so transparently horny over an assist. (Or three.)

Not now, though. Now, Jeff is going to focus on finally getting fucking _laid_.

Kent pulls off his own shirt and then reaches for Jeff’s. His hands are rough and arousingly hot on Jeff’s bare skin, feeling him everywhere, his mouth a slick mix of tongue and teeth down Jeff’s neck. Jeff puts one hand on Kent’s ass—solid like marble, Christ, he’s never gonna get over being allowed to touch it—and the other on the waistband of Kent’s underwear. “I want—can I—” he starts to say, and forgets it all when Kent interrupts, “Let me blow you.”

There’s only one answer to that. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

Kent walks him backwards to the bed and makes him sit.

“Condoms?” Jeff asks.

Kent produces one from his jeans pocket like a goddamn magic trick.

Jeff boggles. “You keep condoms _on hand_?”

“Only recently.”

“Why recently—oh,” Jeff says.

Kent grins as he runs his hands up Jeff’s legs. “It’s all I fucking think about anymore. Do you have any idea how hot you are?”

A wave of heat crawls up Jeff’s neck and into his cheeks. “I’m not,” escapes before he can rethink it.

“You _are_ ,” Kent reiterates, and now he’s unzipping Jeff’s jeans.

“Looked in a mirror lately? You’re chiseled.”

“Yeah, and? That’s what _you_ like.” Kent makes him lift his hips so he can tug the denim down to Jeff’s ankles. His gaze very blatantly goes to Jeff’s cock straining the front of his briefs, and when he licks his lips it appears unconscious. “You’re what _I_ like. I like big thighs and an ass with padding. I like love handles. I like _this_ ,” he says, and kisses the soft pudginess around Jeff’s middle, which isn’t nearly as bad as it was before Jeff started playing hockey again but is still irritatingly persistent. Then he palms Jeff’s dick, rubbing the head through the wet fabric.

Jeff moans.

“You’re a beast on the ice and your ass in sweatpants is fucking _edible_ ,” Kent says. He’s still rubbing Jeff’s dick through his briefs and it’s making Jeff tingle all the way down to his toes. “You’re hot, okay?”

Jeff swallows and looks down. Kent’s mouth is wet and red and he looks fucking gorgeous kneeling between Jeff’s legs. “Guess I can’t argue with the guy about to blow me.”

“You absolutely cannot.” And Kent grins, right before pulling Jeff’s dick out, rolling on the condom, and going to town.

Kent is really good at sucking cock. Jeff is panting within seconds, and after a couple minutes, he’s shaking. Both his hands are fisted in the comforter and he’s making ridiculous noises. He’d be embarrassed about it, except every moan and grunt and bitten off exclamation of, “Fuck, _fuck_ Kent—” gets his ass squeezed or an echoing noise from Kent, and, well.

At first, Jeff doesn’t even notice the weird, wet gagging sounds coming from right next to him. Then he does, and he glances over, and—

“ _Fucking Christ!_ ”

Kent chokes on dick and pulls off, coughing. “The hell? Oh shit, Kit—”

But it’s too late. Kit vomits up a slimy wad of yarn onto the comforter, right next to Jeff’s hip.

Jeff gags a little and looks away. Shit, that’s nasty.

Kent shuffles sideways and gently reaches up to pet Kit. “Baby girl, you okay?”

Kit mews pitifully, and then starts vomiting again. Jeff nearly trips on his jeans while leaping out of the danger zone. “I’ll get the paper towels,” he volunteers, and hurries into the kitchen while simultaneously pulling his underwear and pants back up around his hips. When he comes back carrying a roll of paper towels, Kent is sitting on the bed beside Kit, petting her and frowning at the barfed-up yarn.

“I think it’s from my scarf,” Kent says. He takes the paper towels and starts cleaning up. “I’m worried there’s more. Yarn can tie up a cat’s insides, and if she didn’t get it all out…”

Jeff nods. He’d tossed the condom and zipped his pants back up in the kitchen, and now he reaches for his shirt. “I’ll call the vet and get her carrier. You sit with her.”

Kent nods.

Jeff comes over and lays a hand on Kent’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze. Then, for good measure, he kisses the crown of Kent’s head. “She’ll be okay, Kent, I promise. We’ll get her checked out and she’ll be okay.”

“Yeah.” Kent catches Jeff’s hand and holds it, looking up at him. “Thanks. Sorry about tonight.”

“There will be other blowjobs,” Jeff replies solemnly, which has the intended effect of making Kent smile.

Two hours later, Jeff is sitting next to Kent in the animal hospital waiting room while Kent receives the good news that Kit did vomit up all the yarn and is perfectly fine. Kent sags in relief and his hand, which hasn’t let go of Jeff’s since they arrived, finally goes lax. Jeff smiles and uses his freed arm to pull Kent close.

 

5.

“ _Goddamnit_ , Monster,” Jeff groans, and puts his face in his hands.

Kent, the gigantic asshole, laughs so hard he starts crying.

“It’s not fucking funny,” Jeff grumbles, and crawls onto the bed after Monster. “Gimme that, you hellspawn.”

Monster, rather than surrender the torn-up condom in his mouth, scampers away.

“Monster, get your fuzzy ass back here!” Jeff doesn’t give chase, though. He just sits heavily onto the bed, among the two boxes worth of utterly destroyed condoms that he _literally just bought that morning_.

Kent, still laughing and wiping tears, flops next to him. “Banana flavored?” he teases, picking up a chewed-up foil packet.

“It was funnier when I was buying it. Fucking hell, if I didn’t know better I would think our cats are conspiring to keep us from fucking.”

Kent laughs more and leans in to bite his shoulder. “We can still have sex, you know. I don’t need a condom to give you a handjob.”

Maybe it’s a pitiful demonstration of how sick Jeff is of being blue-balled, but he’ll take it. He kisses Kent hard and fast, already hot for it, and when Kent moans and pushes back, Jeff grips him by the shoulders and eases both of them down until Kent is on top of him. Kent immediately spreads his legs and grinds down. It’s rough and a little uncomfortable through two layers of thick denim. Jeff moans like it’s the best thing he’s ever felt.

Somehow, miraculously, they get all the way through without incident. They get their shirts off, strip off their pants, and rub their dicks together through their underwear until Jeff is panting so hard he feels ready to pass out. Then the underwear comes off and it’s _good_ , it’s so fucking good. Kent is uncut and leaks precome like a faucet. It makes them slippery and Jeff has trouble holding them both in one hand, until Kent braces himself on one knee and reaches between them to help. They try to kiss while getting off, all tongues and teeth, and Jeff grunts, “Kent, Kent, I’m—fuck, I’m—” as he comes.

“God, that was hot,” Kent breathes, “that was so hot.”

“Come on, you too,” Jeff says, and keeps their hands moving on Kent’s cock until Kent shudders and shuts his eyes and releases a punched-out breath as he spills all over Jeff’s stomach.

They lie next to each other for a while, catching their breath.

Kent holds up his hand. “We did it. We successfully had sex. High five, bro.”

Jeff rolls his eyes. But he high-fives Kent. Then he adds, “Next time, we’re fucking at a motel.”

 

+1

“Are you scared?” Jeff asks. His voice echoes off the tile of the bathroom, seeming even louder than usual because the only light is from the myriad candles perched around the edges. Kent is sitting between Jeff’s knees and they’re both nearly folded in half just trying to fit. This tub was barely made for one full grown man, much less two. But they’re making do, because Jeff is shit at romance but Kent thrives on it, and when Kent had come home from his super secret meeting, he’d looked like he needed it.

So Jeff had scrounged up some candles left over from last Halloween and filled the tub. It hadn’t taken any convincing to get Kent in it. Jeff has been doing most of the talking for the last half hour. He’s stuck to safe topics: useless information about what’s going on at the office and recounting new shenanigans Monster has gotten into this week. He doesn’t know for sure what Kent’s meeting had been about, even if he can guess. Of all the people who know that Kent is being scouted by various North American hockey clubs, Jeff is the only one who knows that Kent might actually sign to one.

He even knows which teams are in the running. (None of which, thank god, are the Rangers.)

Kent has gone thoughtfully still. “Scared of the NHL?”

“Yeah.” Jeff hooks his chin over Kent’s shoulder and wraps his arms around him underwater. “Because, you know, what you told me about your friend. How the pressure got to him.”

“He had some other stuff going on,” Kent replies, voice soft. He’s quiet for a bit. “Yeah. I’m scared.”

Jeff hugs him. “But you signed,” he says. “Didn’t you.”

Carefully, Kent nods, his cheek scraping lightly against Jeff’s jaw. “I didn’t realize how bad I wanted it until it was actually in front of me. When I was a kid, everyone always told me what a prodigy I was, like the NHL was a sure thing. I never thought about what that meant, until Zimms—my friend,” he amends, “until my friend almost died. And I decided it wasn’t worth it. Being the NHL’s golden boy wasn’t worth the mindfuck, wasn’t worth _dying_.”

Jeff had kind of always suspected that Kent’s ‘friend in the NHL’ was Jack Zimmermann. They were the same age, and would have gone to the draft the same year. Who would have gone first, if they’d both been up for grabs? The Aces had snapped Zimmermann up like there was no question, which there hadn’t been. And Zimmermann’s rookie year had lived up to the hype, including the Aces’ first Stanley Cup playoffs appearance in a decade. But his second year had been lackluster, and the Aces had rocked the hockey world by _trading_ Zimmermann, all the way across the country, for a couple of defensemen and a second-round pick.

If Kent had gone to the draft, and gone _first_ , would he still be with the Aces? Or would he have fallen apart, like Zimmermann was rumored to have done, and been traded away?

“I’m glad you didn’t go,” Jeff says. “I think you were happier.”

“I think I was, too.”

Jeff nuzzles Kent’s jaw and Kent turns to kiss him, open-mouthed and slow. When they part, they lean against each other, hair mingling and breathing the same air.

“What about now?” Jeff asks. “What changed?”

“I did. I went to college, got a job, got a cat… had a _life_. I got to be myself. And I realized, I might really be the kind of guy who’ll give up a normal life of mental stability just to play hockey.” He laughs hoarsely, like he can’t even believe his own words. “What the fuck, right?”

The insane thing is, Jeff understands. “Yeah, but. You _love_ hockey. I don’t think it’s crazy to sacrifice some things for something you love.”

Kent’s fingers migrate to the arm Jeff still has around him, wrapping around Jeff’s bicep and holding on tight. Their eyes meet and Jeff feels unbalanced by the intensity in Kent’s gaze.

“I should have talked to you,” Kent whispers. “Before I signed. We should have talked about it together.”

“No, it’s good that you didn’t. This is your decision, and I don’t mean that in some bullshit way that’s just shrugging off responsibility. I’m gonna be with you no matter what. That’s a given. So whatever you do, I want it to be what _you_ want, not ‘cause you’re worried about me. You’re my best friend, Kent. That never changes.”

Kent swallows, eyes closing, and his voice is heartbroken when he whispers, “Sometimes it can.”

Jeff gathers him close and hugs him as tightly as he can. “I became a cat owner for you. If you think you’re ever getting rid of me, you’re an idiot.”

Water sloshes in the bathtub as Kent twists enough to hug Jeff in return. It’s getting cold, Jeff realizes, and he can feel all the places he’s gotten pruney. They should get out soon. Jeff thinks he’d like to continue this in bed, where he can wrap Kent up completely and listen to him fall asleep.

That probably won’t happen as much once Kent is in the NHL. It’ll suck, that’s for sure. Jeff means what he said, though. He’ll stand by Kent through anything.

“Meow!” Monster has poked his head through the bathroom door and is pushing it open as he squeezes through.

“Go away, we’re having a moment,” Jeff calls, drawing a snort from Kent.

Monster pads up to the tub and stretches until he can put his paws over the side. He sniffs Jeff’s shoulder—the nearest body part—and then the water. Then, horror of horrors, he leaps onto the tub’s narrow edge.

“Buddy, this is really not a good time.”

Kent is also eyeing Monster uncertainly. “You might wanna move him. If he falls, we’re both going to the hospital.”

“He does this all the time,” Jeff replies, though even he can hear his own lack of conviction. “Monster, seriously, this is not a place you want to be.”

Monster walks a few steps, stopping to stare curiously at a candle. He reaches a paw for it, and Jeff watches as Monster’s back paws move precariously close to the water.

“Yeah, you know what, out. Monster, out.” Jeff wiggles himself free of Kent, stands, and grabs Monster around the middle. Monster flails in annoyance as Jeff steps out of the tub, crosses the bathroom, and sets him outside before closing the door.

Kent, still submerged, grins. “Proactive of you.”

“I literally saw my life flash before my eyes,” Jeff says. “The water’s getting cold, we might as well get out.”

Kent nods, stands, and reaches for a towel. “You going to bed soon? I can head home.”

The thought of Kent going upstairs to sleep in his bed with just Kit and his own anxieties to keep him company makes Jeff’s stomach twist. “Nah, screw that. Stay. I’ll get my tablet, we can watch Netflix in bed until we crash.”

Kent hesitates. “I can’t leave Kit alone all night.”

“Bring her here, then,” pops out of Jeff’s mouth.

Kent blinks. “What? But. Monster?”

“I’ve been reading online about introducing cats to each other,” Jeff goes on, and he can feel his face getting pink just from the way Kent is looking at him. “If we separate them at first, give them time to adjust, they should be fine. I’ll put Monster in the bathroom. He’s used to it.”

There’s silence, and then Kent wraps his towel around his waist, comes over, and kisses Jeff until he feels like there should be smoke coming out of his ears. When Kent lets him go, his expression is sappy enough to supply all of Canada with maple syrup. “I’ll be right back. Keep the bed warm.”

“Duh,” Jeff replies stupidly.

Kent grins, pecks him on the lips, and collects his clothes on the way out.

Monster immediately waltzes back in.

“If you fall in, I’m gonna laugh,” Jeff tells him, and goes to blow out the candles and pull the plug.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm still on [tumblr](http://punmasterkentparson.tumblr.com/).


End file.
